Sunburnt
by Socket-52
Summary: Daryl, Carol and T-Dog are clearing a field of walkers and she's wearing that flimsy red top. The one he secretly loves. (Carol/Daryl)


**Timeline:** 3x01

 **Sunburnt**

It was midday. The sun was directly above them, beating down mercilessly.

Daryl, T-Dog and Carol were clearing the field of dead walkers and she was wearing that flimsy red top. The one that was cut a little too low, that hugged her a little too tightly. The one with tears in the back that revealed the white camisole she wore beneath (holes Daryl desperately wanted to trace with his fingertips). The one he secretly loved. The one that exposed her shoulders - the one he'd told her not to wear cos the sun was blazing and she'd get burnt if she didn't cover-up.

She hadn't listened even though he'd pointed it out repeatedly.

"What are you, Joan Rivers? Gonna critique my accessories too?" she teased.

T-Dog hid his grin - Carol had a sharp tongue when it suited her.

Daryl glanced at T-Dog and would've turned red with embarrassment if he wasn't already red from exertion and the heat.

"You've got porcelain skin - you should be careful," he mumbled in Carol's direction.

T-Dog's grin widened. Now the sullen redneck was taking note of Carol's skin-type?! Jeeze he had it bad!

T-Dog loved watching them dance around each other. It was always entertaining to watch two people who didn't know that they belonged to each other procrastinate. He almost wanted to bang their heads together.

Carol bent to take the legs of a walker. "You sound like my mother!"

Daryl huffed, displeased, then lifted the arms of the walker and they added it to the bonfire pile.

* * *

That evening the skin across Carol's shoulders was tight, angry red and sore. Her body felt like a furnace; her skin was hot to the touch and felt as if it would slip from her bones any moment. Then the throbbing pain set-in.

As they sat around the fire eating the stew Lori had thrown together, she couldn't meet Daryl's eyes.

She didn't complain, not once, but Daryl saw the grimace on her face when she lay down to sleep. Saw her jaw clench as her shoulder touched the ground. He hated it - seeing her in pain.

* * *

At dawn, as everyone else slept, Daryl slipped out of their camp.

He told Glenn, who was on guard duty, his plans and went to foliage.

A few hours later, Daryl returned to the prison with an Aloe Vera plant.

Carol was sat in the shade of the prison bus tipped on its side, on watch.

As he approached she smiled.

"Where'd you get to?" she queried.

"Here," he said gruffly and held out the plant.

He was still cross at her; she needed to take better care of herself. Needed to realise she was important - to all of them.

Carol looked up at Daryl, confused. Her ocean blue eyes gripped him.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It'll take the sting out of your sunburn," he said softly.

Her eyes narrowed. Damn; he noticed everything.

She took the plant and studied it. Not quite sure what to do with it.

Daryl sighed. He knelt beside her, took out his knife and slit one of the broad leaves open. A gel-like substance gushed out.

"Turn around," he instructed.

Carol obeyed.

Gently Daryl slid his fingers beneath the straps of her top and tugged them down, leaving her shoulders bare. He smeared the Aloe Vera gel on his fingertips and delicately rubbed it into Carol's burnt skin.

The gel was cold and soothing. A shiver ran down Carol's spine at the instant relief.

Daryl felt the tremor run through her. His chest tightened and his muscles tensed. Touching her made him nervous; he didn't know why.

His fingers continued to deftly apply the gel and caress her skin. He did so in silence.

She heard him breath; shallow and fast. It sent tingles running through her.

She felt the urge to make a joke… some stupid joke about how he'd use any excuse to touch her… but she didn't.

"There," he mumbled, finished.

Gingerly he pulled her straps back in place.

Carol turned to him and smiled appreciatively.

"Do it five times a day for several days," he advised.

Carol grinned. "You wanna do me five times a day?" she asked playfully.

And there it was. The stupidly inappropriate joke she always ended-up making. She sighed internally.

Daryl's usual sheepish look coated his face.

Carol smiled mischievously. "It's alright – I'll ask Lori to apply the next lot."

She felt the relief radiate off him.

He stood up. Suddenly feeling too close to her. The feel of her skin blistering his fingertips.

But he didn't move away. Instead he scuffed his feet in the dirt, suddenly shy.

"I got you this," he muttered and pulled the gift from his jean pocket.

He held it out - as if uncertain whether to give it to her or not.

Carol got to her feet and took the offering.

She unravelled it – it was a head scarf. She smiled.

His mouth twitched nervously; glad that she liked it.

"Thank you," she said softly.

She wanted to kiss his cheek but she'd just made that stupid innuendo joke and he was already on edge.

"Wear it," he ordered. "It'll protect your head from the sun."

Then he turned and headed back to camp.

Carol watched him go and smiled broadly; Daryl Dixon was a softie at heart.


End file.
